


The State of You

by msmami



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackmail, Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/F, Hate Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Slow Burn, Smoking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmami/pseuds/msmami
Summary: “You were right about one thing: there is a major difference between us. I could possibly be juggling life and death itself between my very fingertips and you’re down to your last cigarette.”





	The State of You

Angela should have been home hours ago. The error message on the screen of her holopad blared loudly and brightly against her tired eyes, her expression reduced to a low effort frown her facial bones didn’t quite have the energy to commit to. Filing reports was a task best saved for early in the morning, right after meetings were taken care of and her mind was ripe from the nutrition a protein bar and coffee could provide. A pressing emergency had her spending more time clad in her Valkyrie suit and her fingers coiled around her Caduceus Staff so long that her hand was still cramping. With the blood cleaned from under her fingernails, her staff set up to charge, and her suit due for some mandatory repair before the next travesty, she only had so much time left to cater to her actual schedule.

The Omnic Crisis may have been silenced though the aftershock of the events that transpired arose a certain violent rage in humans and robots alike. Be it for revenge of their fallen brethren or something as petty as taking advantage of the sleeping chaos to execute petty crimes for some unseen political or financial gain. Something that plagued Angela was that it wasn’t the everyday citizens one should be afraid of, but the powerhouses running the world who had the most nefarious of intentions.

Through a messy haze of contracts and business rhetoric and compromise, Overwatch wasn’t exactly in a position to butt heads with these people. They didn’t need any more of the negative press and Angela could practically smell reporters lingering outside the gate of the headquarters, waiting to flag down Strike Commander Morrison or Reyes for a hot new rumor to splay over the tabloids for the next week.

Yet, this wasn’t exactly Angela’s position. Though a widely respected name in the industry, she was a private woman with her work coming first and foremost. She had no time to address the angry mobs and the few times someone recognized her, she was behind the doors of a licensed vehicle before she could be flagged down for a line of invasive questions.

Humanity, no matter how much she cherished and vowed to protect it, could be just as prone to the hatred and malice they claimed to be fighting against. Angela learned the sad, sad truth that no matter how much you gave, the public would always want more. You’re a hero one day and a pariah the next. Many years ago she used to seriously doubt why anyone would ever abuse their power and become the fabled "mad scientist" archetype she's heard so much about. With the stress she'd been put under, she often wonders why she hadn't snapped yet. Some people already have, albeit with a sort of poise and elegance that kept their facade in place no matter how malicious their intentions. She sometimes worried if she was already one of those people...

Angela scooted back on the wheels of her chair and let her stare carry up to the small spot of light available on her ceiling, trying to work out the tangle of thoughts keeping her distracted. No, not possible, she thought to herself. 

What she did was for a greater good, unlike _certain_ people in her branch who had vastly different perspectives on the values of science. A certain person who she's locked eyes with one too many times for it to be a coincidence, a certain person with a dangerous and often downright disgusting approach to genetics and yet in such a way that sounded so eloquent in that honeyed voice that one would almost be tempted to forgive them. Angela audibly groaned, ruffling her hair that was barely contained in its loose ponytail. She must have been exhausted if she was having thoughts like _that_. At this rate she’d be up and heading back to her lab with only four hours of sleep to work off of. Five if she skipped the shower and food-No one said she had to practice what she preached. And with that in mind…

Angela took a quick look around her office, only to be greeted by the hum of the air conditioning and few running lights in the building. Everyone had already headed home for the day with a few short hours until the janitors showed up for their morning shifts. She had time.

She reached down to the lowest drawer on her desk and produced a small carton of cigarettes, now much lighter than it was earlier this month. Opening up the top she could make out two lonely sticks sitting at the bottom, lazily leaning against one another without the eighteen others keeping them in line.

Jesse wouldn’t let her hear the end of it if he figured out and Ana allegedly had no problem quitting after receiving the news of her pregnancy years ago. And here Angela was now, propping open a nearby window and taking the familiar lighter into her hands for what wouldn’t be the last time.

“Just this once,” Angela told herself, cupping the budding flame with her hand and feeling the rush of nicotine entering her system almost instantly. The smell of blood, the broken bones, all washed away just like that and replaced by the comforting embrace of a controlled stream of smoke billowing into the cold, November night.

She set the box and lighter down on the table and let herself melt into the comforting heat encasing her mouth. Angela had been smoking for maybe five years now, it was an off and on affair with what she didn’t have the gull to admit was an addiction. Angela had the funds for several vape pens and enough nicotine patches to last a year, and yet the kick of the real thing is what truly satisfied her.

That familiar feeling of shame captured her gut and she took a long drag in hopes to smother it out. She was one of the top scientists in her field, after all. If anyone could reverse the effects of years of cigarette smoking in a day, it would be no other than Dr. Angela Ziegler. The guardian angel of Overwatch, the miracle worker with the heaven-sent touch and the gallons of perfume drowning out the stench of her hypocrisy, breath mints whenever the breath of life smelled like booze and bad decisions. She had to be pure and untouchable in ways that others couldn’t be, because even though more than one person dawned the halo, they didn’t always deserve it.

“Well, it looks like our guardian angel has become the new night owl.” _Verdammt._

Angela’s eyes skewed shut and she pursed her lips around her cigarette before the curse bubbling in her throat escaped.

“Good evening, Dr. O'Deorain,” She mustered instead, hastily tossing the evidence out of the window and turning to see her coworker bathed in the glow of the hallway lighting. Moira leaned against a nearby cabinet, arms folded over her chest. Her usual white coat was partially unbuttoned, revealing the black dress shirt and teal tie hanging loose from her collar. A single latex glove covered her hand, making Moira appear a lot more disheveled and human than usual. Angela tried her best not to stare, the contrast of light against the darkness giving Moira a certain otherworldly presence. Like a cruel god sinking to human form...or perhaps one of those demons people saw when they had sleep paralysis.

That's more like it.

“Complications this late at night, Ziegler? Or just trying to meet a deadline?”

“None of the above,” Angela replied tersely, quickly averting her gaze away from what she realized was Dr. O'Deorain’s overly satisfied expression. “Besides, you’re one to talk.”

Moira shrugged, walking deeper into the office and too far into Angela’s comfort zone. “I suppose you’re right. With all the commotion today, I barely had time for any of my personal assignments. Not that I let that stop me.”

“And what assignments are those?” Angela replied, deciding to distract herself with fingers tapping along the screen of her holopad again, only to be greeted by another error message flashing more violently than before. Angela had known Moira personally for years now and the fellow scientist’s presence was something she simply had to tolerate if it meant keeping the branch in check. Not that Moira cared.

Controversial was a word often associated with the geneticist and for good reason. No sane person would ever mention O'Deorain’s accomplishments without crediting the woman’s indifference and callousness in the same breath. 

“Oh, the usual, testing the limitations of mortality and trying to craft the next wave of human evolution.”

“You’ll be slaughtering another animal to do this, I assume?”

“Are you still on about that rabbit? I told you, he came out fine.”

“Your definition of ‘fine’ is replacing a human’s lungs with tubes. I can’t imagine what standards you have for animals.”

“Always the doubter, aren’t we? Besides, the only subject I had to my disposal at this time of night was myself.”

“Questionable priorities, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Would you like to see my progress?”

“If I let you, will you leave?”

“Certainly,”

That was enough for Angela to finally look away from her pad and offer a condescending look.

“This might be of interest to you, Angela. You and I have some similar goals, if you want to admit it or not…” Moira said as she calmly removed the glove covering her right hand. “Consider this my thesis statement.”

Angela had seen her fair share of atrocities over the years, bodies mangled in such ways that only an emergency squadron and a miracle could get them on their feet again. She’d seen proud cities torn apart by war, littered with equals amount of robotic and human limbs. She’d seen and held hearts pulsating to their last beat, blood warming on her hands of one lost life after the other. As a doctor, it was an unspoken rule to keep a certain composure no matter how pressing a problem, and yet this sent cold shivers down Angela’s spine.

Moira’s hand had been reduced to a deathly purple, as if the circulation of blood had halted somewhere up her arm with irritated veins pulsing violently against her flesh. Angela could only see so far up the fellow doctor’s coat sleeve, and yet she knew it had to be worming its way up the arm and passed the shoulder.

“I’m still stabilizing it,” Moira explained calmly, as if this were a mere exchange over today’s weather. “A few more tests and I’ll get the results I’m looking for.”

“What kind of results? Wh-What is the purpose of this…this _thing?”_

“As I said, the building blocks of life itself are just as capable of becoming tools. Don’t act like you haven’t seen these effects in work before.”

 _Yes, because I’m the one who made it_ , Angela felt her nails dig into her palms. There was something inside her gut that had just now been ignited from the abomination Moira was presenting to her right now. This mockery of Angela’s years of research reduced to such a foul mutation. There was a lingering suspension that Moira had dug around in some hidden files a few months back, but now Angela was positively certain. The signs were all there, even if the color wasn’t quite right.

Moira had always been reckless, intelligent-brilliant, even-but with a sort of suicidal ambition that didn’t fall in line Overwatch’s code of honor. Angela knew how to stay in line, not without much struggle at that, and yet Moira was always pushing boundaries and giving the agency a reputation that could only be swept under the rug so many times. And now, now she had the nerve to abuse Angela’s very own work. Only a complete genius would be capable of such a feat, Angela considered but backpedaled upon realizing it sounded far too complementary. 

If Moira was going to cripple herself and her position this way, so be it. There would be a satisfying irony to Moira’s hand completely falling off from her effort and Angela would be there to laugh.

“In all my years, Moira, I have never met someone with such ill regard for others.”

“It was under my assumption that we are to do as we see fit for humanity, Dr. Ziegler. I have my methods, you have your morals.”

“My _morals_ keep this branch and those who come into it alive. In a time like this, I figured that be a priority of yours as well,” Angela said. “But I suppose that’s what makes us different.”

Moira scoffed. “You honestly believe that the world’s future wasn’t in mind when I did this? Angela, sweetie, you truly are a card.”

Better a card than a criminal, Angela mused though instead looked down at the holopad hovering on her desk that was a better use of her time. “Well I listened to you, now go.”

“I am a woman of my word, Dr. Ziegler…but, may I add something?”

“Spit it out,”

“You were right about one thing: there is a major difference between us. I could possibly be juggling life and death itself between my very fingertips and you’re down to your last cigarette.”

“Wh-?” Angela felt a sudden panic as she found the carton sitting open on her desk. _Verdammt noch mal!_

“The-They aren’t mine.”

“What, holding onto them for a friend? You may be an excellent doctor, darling, but you are a _terrible_ liar.” Moira gave a pleased chuckle as Angela sighed in defeat.

“Yes, they’re mine. If you can do one decent thing in your life, maybe you won’t tell anyone.”

“Trusting me with a secret that might smudge the façade of your untouchable purity? Not likely, my dear.”

“Oh, really? Then maybe I can let the board know that you’ve been stealing my work,” Angela said, pleased to see Moira raise a questioning brow at the suggestion. “You thought I forgot about that, didn’t you? Not the best idea to show me your little project.”

“A simple transgression to combat my chances of stepping foot in this building again? Is your ego really that immense?”

“With my reputation, they’ll be hard pressed not to believe a word I say. Trust me, the board is just itching to find another reason to send you out the door.”

“And what will you do for an intellectual rival, Ziegler? The monkey, perhaps?”

“I’m not childish enough to care about rivals.”

“Competition makes for an exciting life,” Moira said. “How else would we improve ourselves and our work if we never thought anyone could possibly be besting us? I’ll admit that it was your accomplishments that pushed me to do such a thing. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Imitation isn’t flattery in my book. I assure you, with the reputation you have, slandering me isn’t worth it.”

“I have far greater ways to embarrass you, my dear. The smoking habit is just another addition to my collection. But the chatter at those board meetings and parties can get a little stale-”

“Then how about we settle on a deal?” Angela replied, fighting the bile in her throat as she considered the wager. “You do something for me, I do something for you, and we both get to keep our careers and reputations.”

Moira scoffed. “All this over a little cigarette?”

“We both know it’s more than that.” There was no way Angela was letting Moira leave this room with that kind of leverage. No matter how minor it may have seemed in retrospect, it was just too risky.

Moira smirked, placing her hands on her narrow hips. “Your ego is astounding, Doctor. Very well, I’ll let you go first.”

“I want my notes back. Any copies, be it digital or in print, are to be taken from your private headquarters and given back to me.”

“You underestimate my memory, Dr. Ziegler.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Angela said. “My biotic research should still belong to me. That’s years of work you’re taking, Moira. No matter how much progress you’ve made, you’ll never be able to fully understand my studies.”

“May I at least keep my own notes? They are merely expansions of your own ideas.”

Angela sighed. “I suppose asking for all of it would be difficult. Fine, anything that you’ve conjured up on your own whim can stay.”

Moira was silent for a moment before quietly nodding her head. “I understand. We can both retreat to my lab soon after and gather up your precious little homework. I already got what I wanted from it.”

“Thank you,” Angela said, her heart sinking as she realized the weight of the opportunity she had just handed her worst enemy. Who knew what kind of trade Moira would consider an equal to scientific research? A blood sample? A corpse that had just the slightest opportunity to keep kicking?

“But I have to admit that you’ve put me in a tight spot, doctor. My work might be hard to finish without your notes as a reference. And in all honestly, I want to thank you for it. With your research, the constructs of life and death as we know it can change forever,” Moira’s smile became more endearing as she closed off more space between them. Angela had to crane her neck a bit just to make eye contact. “I really do mean it when I say you’re a genius, Dr. Ziegler. You are positively brilliant…”

“…and so damn beautiful…”

And like that, their lips connected. Moira hungrily slipped her tongue between Angela’s teeth, her thin mouth almost seeming to swallow the younger doctor’s with a sort of ferocity that almost knocked Angela off balance. Angela is paralyzed, and Moira offered some support with their arms around her waist, pulling Angela deeper into the kiss despite the lack of input on the other end. When Moira pulled away, a string of saliva breaking off between them, there was a look of foul content. A winner’s grin stretched over that wicked face wearing whatever was left of Angela’s lip balm.

Moira spoke slowly, leaning in so Angela could feel every slight syllable roll off the tongue and into her ear, “You are truly divine.”  

 _Oh mein._ Angela’s mind ran a mile a minute, and yet it felt like time had frozen. The only thing that reminded her that she was still alive was the wet heat consuming her cunt.

“I can feel your heart pounding, doctor. And your face-” Moira loosened her grip to rest the hand that looked like death against Angela’s cheek. “So warm. Don’t tell me you’re running a fever.”

Moira’s hand felt like ice. Her nails lured dangerously close to a vulnerable eyeball, fingers coiled in such a way that could rip hair or skin depending on what that mocking smile was meant to convey. When Angela felt the feeling come back to her legs, she pushed Moira away from her, regaining her composure on the foot of her desk.

“Wh-What was that?”

“You said we were doing a trade,” Moira said simply. “You get your notes and I get a kiss. I thought it seemed fair.”

“I-I suppose. Just a warning next time, please.” Angela placed a tentative finger to her lips, rubbing her thighs together in hopes the friction would suffice for her own shameful arousal. She licked her bottom lip quickly, hoping to keep the taste in her mouth for just a little longer...to analyze, of course. 

“Alright then,” Moira said, turning on her heel. “Let’s head back to my lab and we can sort through the files ourselves.”

“Wait? You’re just dropping it like that?”

“What’s the matter? I’m only fulfilling our prior arrangement.” Moira said, looking over her shoulder.

“Y-Yes, of course,” Angela realized she was stammering now, her pussy rivaling the heat budding in her cheeks. “I just...no one has ever kissed me like that before. I figured you would want something more valuable than that in exchange for my notes.”

Moira laughed, “Such a bold statement, Ziegler! The mere assumption that your body is worth trading for your research. Ha ha, you are so beautifully flawed, my dear.”

Angela sighed heavily. The thought that crept into her mind was so incredibly undignified, the embarrassment she would be feeling for months was already settling in. Well, if Moira was going to catch her smoking, she may as well unveil all the little sins she truly had stirring inside.

“Perhaps another wager,” Angela proposed. “In all honesty, maybe I do want your other notes.”

“You can’t possibly be serious.” Moira replied, furrowing her brow.

Angela wringed her hands to make their shaking less obvious. “I am willing to give up more than you think for my own research, Dr. O'Deorain. It’s all I have, my life’s work. I want all of it and in exchange…you can have all of me.”

Moira parted her lips to speak but didn’t utter a word. Her expression, now void of any of the past smugness or displeasure now replaced with blank surprise. “I’m near speechless.”

“That’s a first,” Angela said, reaching under her skirt to slip off her panties and let them fall to her ankles. She pulled off her heels and perched herself up on her desk, spreading her legs and her pussy that was already dripping wet splayed open and exposed. “My dignity in exchange for my research. Which one is more valuable to you?”

Moira stepped forward, drinking in the tempting visual. “If I truly had a say in the matter, I’d take both.”

Moira didn’t hesitate to bend down between Angela’s thighs, running a trained tongue along her labia with a sort of ferocity that was far too hungry to be the product of just budding lust. Hell, Angela’s heart was something she’d been fighting since Moira appeared in the doorway, and the feeling of having the walls of her pussy tended to in her time of need was better than any smoke break.

Moira held Angela’s hips, sinking deeper into her work and only becoming more aggressive with tender kisses and the softest of bites to Angela’s inner thigh. “So good, _an mhaith_ …”

Angela gripped Moira by their short hair, pushing her pussy deeper into Moira’s eager mouth. Moira was a natural, so tender and intimate in a way that brought feelings of shame and bliss rushing into Angela’s core. She slipped a hand beneath her shirt and began to grope herself, pulling her breast out of her bra and playing with her hardening nipple.

“Touching yourself?” Moira said, rubbing her mouth as she looked up at Angela with a grin. “Is this not enough for you?”

Angela slipped her hand out from under her shirt. “Have anything better in mind?”

“Obviously,” Moira said, gripping Angela’s shoulder. “I always have.”

Angela was pinned down to the floor in one swift movement, the air getting knocked out of her as she made contact with the cold marble. Moira lured overhead, a single hand keeping Angela’s shoulder pinned as she made her way down the rest of Angela’s pesky clothing. Off with the button up top and bra keeping her breasts contained, the miniskirt yanked down to fully display Angela’s dripping cunt.

“Perhaps you were right, Dr. Ziegler. Your dignity is positively delightful.”

Moira’s veiny hand felt along the labia, fingers quickly finding their way inside of Angela’s vulnerable hole. The noise Angela made was embarrassingly loud, a tremble gasp of a shout that had her wedging her eyes shut and wrapping her legs around Moira’s waist.

“Tell me how this feels.”

“I-It feels…It feels…”

“Amazing, isn’t it? Only the best for _my_ guardian angel.” Moira continued to work her magic along Angela’s cunt, surprisingly careful with the long nails Angela felt both dread and intrigue at having close to her privates. The wetness alone provided some decent working room for Moira’s fingers to explore the space freely.

Moira moved two well trained fingers in short little circles, massaging what she must have narrowed down was Angela’s favorite spot on behalf of a well-executed hypothesis. And all the while she stared down at Ziegler with a satisfaction that Angela loathed and lusted for. “If only they could see you right now-so wet and exposed. So starved of affection, you poor thing, but it is in the nature of angels to be virgins, right?”

“I-I never said I was a virgin.”

“You certainly moan like one,” Moira said, punctuating the statement with a firm bite to Angela’s ear. She gripped Angela’s breast and moved her lips back to start another kiss, pleased to feel the doctor’s tongue slip into her mouth first. Moira was still clothed but it didn’t stop Angela from rutting into her crouch, the friction of smooth fabric against their pussy enough to send them over the edge and make the softest little whimpers. “That’s it, show me just how desperate you are,” Moira said, sending the motion back into Angela’s rotating hips. “One day I’ll have to fuck you properly. Mark my words.”

Angela came then and there, back arching against the floor and the grip around Moira’s legs tightening until finally coming undone. They sat in silence for a minute, Moira staring calmly at the sheen of sweat coating Angela’s breasts and brow, at the mused hair and gentle rise and fall of their chest.

“Did you finish?” Angela said, finally breaking the silence.

“I didn’t need to,” Moira replied. “I was looking for a kiss after all, an orgasm wasn’t exactly on my agenda for today. Maybe one day, my dear.”

“How ladylike of you,” She said, still lamenting about how the geneticist didn’t have to remove their own clothing during the exchange. Maybe she could have snuck that into a loophole. “When I was younger I thought this kind of thing would be more romantic, that I’d save myself for marriage like everyone else.”

“Then perhaps a ring for this finger some day?” Moira said quietly, almost seeming to talk to herself as her hand lightly grazed over Angela’s with a sort of tenderness that felt both endearing yet possessive.

“Not likely,” Angela replied, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to move her hand away from Moira’s touch.

“Then something less formal,” Moira said, fingers trailing their way upwards. Past the stomach and breast and collarbone until settling against Angela’s exposed throat. “A necklace? Or maybe a bracelet. A charm for every life you’ve saved.”

“My birthday passed many months ago, but I appreciate the offer.”

“No need for a formal occasion,” Moira replied. “Our guardian angel plagued by the devil’s prize, healing hands forever marked by my offering.” Moira’s hands finally settled and held Angela’s face tenderly, an eye of blood and one of water memorizing every little detail of her visage. “Like a curse, it’ll be with you. Just lingering against your skin like a temptation.”

“You think I can be won over with a little jewelry and a bad poem?”

“It can be a start,” Moira replied. “You and I can make beautiful things together, my dear. My hands removing your clothes resulted in one of the most gorgeous solutions I’ve seen in years. I simply couldn’t have done it without you.”

Angela laughed, “If you’re proposing a partnership, you’re asking the wrong scientist. You and I may be intellectual equals, I admit that, but we are on entirely different pages.”

“Don’t let ethics hold you back, Doctor. You’d be wise to abandon these shackles while you still can.”

“Unlike you, I actually have something to lose,” Angela said, standing upright with Moira’s grip guiding her to her feet. “No matter how small it may be, I have hope that you’re capable of doing great things, Moira. Even if you don’t know it yet.”

“I already know I can. I just don’t want them to clip your wings, my little angel.” Moira replied as she dug inside her pants pocket and took out a single cigarette. “Now, I forgot my lighter at home, may I borrow yours?”

**Author's Note:**

> some translations:
> 
> verdammt (noch mal!)//damn it all  
> oh mein//oh my  
> an mhaith//very good


End file.
